


you've got the easiest position to destroy my life (all you have to do is arrive)

by thoresque, thorkidumpster



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Explicit Sexual Content, Fat Thor, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, Loki's in his early 20s, M/M, Territorial Cat, Thor's in his mid 30s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoresque/pseuds/thoresque, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorkidumpster/pseuds/thorkidumpster
Summary: If Thor had been a younger, fitter man, maybe. But after the start-stop and, thankfully now, starting-and-running years of his little bakery, living through a bad marriage, followed by going through one of the ugliest divorces in the entire history of ugly divorces, Thor is…thicker than he had been in his youth. He’s acutely aware of his bulk now, especially compared to Loki’s slender frame.And yet...Loki’s light eyes are smoldering, raking over Thor’s body as though he were already imagining Thor naked. Those soft fingers tease their way up through the hair on Thor’s forearm and Thor takes a deep, but stuttering breath.“What can I do for you, Loki?” Thor asks, gripping his mug tight.Loki arches an eyebrow. “Dance with me.” It’s not a question.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 201
Collections: Best Thorkis, Thorki Baby Bang 2020





	you've got the easiest position to destroy my life (all you have to do is arrive)

**Author's Note:**

> So excited--and nervous--to finally be able to post this story (which Michael and I affectionately refer to as "our child")! 
> 
> **Thank Yous:** Many thanks to the Thorki Baby Bang moderators for all of their hard work, to Jennifer for brainstorming the original idea, Rogue for her cheerleading, to Noora and Bucky for invaluable beta and, of course, to InnaLuu, our artist, who created such a lovely piece to accompany this work, and was a GEM through the entire process! 
> 
> To Michael: this fic would not exist without you, and I am so thankful to have you as my writing partner. Love you, babe!
> 
> Thank you so much, and we hope you enjoy our little offering. Thorki Good!

This is a terrible idea. 

The club throbs and pulses around him like something alive. It’s too loud, too hot, too strobing in here and, though he’s not even forty yet, Thor has the distinct feeling that he’s _too old_ for this scene. The place is packed tight with college kids, there’s some shitty punk-pop song blaring over the speakers, and the overpriced beer is fucking terrible. 

Thor sighs. 

Resigned, he nurses his mug and continues to glance around in the vain hope of spotting someone else closer to his age. He’d heard good things about this place from his customers, but of course, Thor lives in a college town, and he should have anticipated that a bar this… _trendy_ would attract a younger crowd. 

Thor had fully intended to spend his Friday night doing the usual, warming up some leftovers and tucking into them with a Coors Light and Netflix for company. Lately though, his friends seemed to come to a consensus that he was ‘lonely’ and needed to ‘get back in the game’, as Fandral put it. 

Fandral, who had never left the game to begin with, and therefore had no experience getting back ‘into it’. 

Thor’s here to get them off his back. To tell them that he tried, at least. That’s the plan. 

He glances around to make sure no one’s watching him, and slides a hand under his deep red shirt and into the waistband of his jeans, pulling them down to rest under the hot fabric indentations they’ve left in his gut. Thankfully, the shirt he’s wearing is nice and loose, and it drapes over all of it. Feeling mostly safe, he relaxes his stomach muscles and lets his fleshy middle slump into its natural softness. God, he really has let himself go. These are his best jeans, the ones Amora told him to get—even though they were a size too small—because they would give him a little _incentive_ , she’d said. 

But they didn’t; she ended up leaving him anyway, and now he's in this club where everyone is young and beautiful and more hip than he’ll ever be, and he’s just sitting at the bar stuffed into a pair of jeans that are digging in so deep that it’s like they’re hunting for gold. 

The house lights go from red to purple to blue, and the music bleeds into yet another pop song. The girl who was sitting beside him at the bar shrieks at the change of music and hops off her stool to join the throng of people on the dance floor. Thor opens his mouth to yell something at her about not leaving her drink alone, but she’s gone before he can get his voice to work—not that she’d hear him over all the noise. Instead, he shrugs and slides her abandoned glass to the bartender. They share a weary smile, and a head shake. _Kids_. 

Thor looks into the now-empty space and spots another kid sitting farther down the bar counter. The guy has to be at least twenty-one just to get in here, but Thor can’t imagine him being much older than that. The kid turns then, looks at Thor over a slim, bare shoulder and smiles, a sharp and toothy thing, causing flares of heat to rise on Thor’s cheeks. He’s handsome in a _pretty_ sort of way; it’s a fight not to stare at him, and Thor only barely manages to win it. 

Beer. Just finish the beer and go. That’s the new plan. 

Thor shakes his head and throws back the last of his watery beer in one swallow, anxious to chase away the sudden case of nerves that’s come over him. He sets the mug back on the bar with deliberate care and the bartender starts to fill it again without being asked. “Hey, uh,” Thor yells, “I didn’t, uh—I didn’t order...” 

“Compliments,” the bartender interrupts, her chin jerking further down the bar. Thor looks in that direction to find the kid again. Unsure of what to do, he simply raises the mug in a toast. 

Jesus fucking Christ, the kid just bought him a drink. He’s definitely too old for this place. 

College Boy apparently takes his toast as an invitation and swings his long legs off the stool to saunter over to where Thor’s sitting. He’s average height, but thin in that delicate way that the internet gets all frothy over. He looks like he’s half Thor’s weight. Maybe. 

Thor takes another drink of his beer to hide his nerves. What is this kid trying to pull? Is he about to be the butt of some stupid, hurtful college joke? 

_Maybe he’s gonna try to sell me something,_ Thor thinks. Then nods. That has to be it. Thor remembers his own college years, when you took weird odd jobs to cover the gaps that tuition left open. Kid’s probably wrapped up in some pyramid scheme, selling essential oils or knives or timeshares. He’s just scouted out Thor as his catch for the night. His mark. Or maybe he’s the unsuspecting victim of some shitty college prank. Thor tries to mentally brace himself for whatever might happen next. Prepare himself to say no to whatever he’s about to be offered. 

The guy settles into the empty seat next to him. “Hey,” he offers by way of greeting, voice deep and clear—even through all the noise—as he gives Thor another of his toothy smiles. “What’s your name?” 

Now that the guy is up close, Thor can see that he’s more than handsome or pretty; he’s fucking _beautiful_. Light-colored eyes—light blue...or maybe green? It’s hard to tell in this wild lighting—with dark, artfully tossed curls that frame a pale, heart-shaped face with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. They lead down to an angled jaw and a set of perfectly pink lips. 

“Thor,” he says as smoothly as he can, which isn’t nearly as smooth as he hopes. 

The kid leans into him, brushing a lock of hair away to reveal a delicate ear. Thor stifles the urge to run a finger along its shell. “What?” 

Thor says his name again, trying his best not to shout it into the side of the kid’s head. 

“I’m Loki.” 

“Thanks for the beer, Loki.” 

“My pleasure.” He tilts his face and the light catches on one of those blade-like cheekbones. He looks luminous. Otherworldly. Loki reaches out and brushes his fingers over the back of Thor’s hand. “You come here often?”

“Nope. I pass this place all the time on my way to work, but I’ve never stepped foot inside until tonight. You seem to, uh...” Thor pauses, unsure of how to finish the thought without sounding judgey. “You seem comfortable, though.”

Loki shrugs, and Thor’s attention is drawn to the kid’s collarbone. He’s wearing what Thor thinks is a sweater, thin and dark-colored with a neckline so wide it’s slipping off his shoulder. The long sleeves threaten to swallow Loki’s hands entirely; only his fingers are showing, long and slender—like the rest of him—with shiny black polish on his nails. “I can make myself comfortable anywhere,” he says with a wink. 

Thor’s breath catches. If this guy is planning to sell him an alternate power supplier it’s the most intimate sales pitch he’s ever gotten. Or… Maybe he’s a sex worker? That would make sense—arrestingly beautiful boy coming onto him in a club? He can’t think of any other reason why an exquisite thing like Loki would be interested in _him_. 

If Thor had been a younger, fitter man, maybe. But after the start-stop and, thankfully now, starting-and-running years of his little bakery, living through a bad marriage, followed by going through one of the ugliest divorces in the entire _history_ of ugly divorces, Thor is…thicker than he had been in his youth. He’s acutely aware of his bulk now, especially compared to Loki’s slender frame. 

And yet...Loki’s light eyes are smoldering, raking over Thor’s body as though he were already imagining Thor naked. Those soft fingers tease their way up through the hair on Thor’s forearm and Thor takes a deep, but stuttering breath. 

“What can I do for you, Loki?” Thor asks, gripping his mug tight. 

Loki arches an eyebrow. “Dance with me.” It’s not a question. 

“I... I don’t think so. I don’t really, uh...dance.” 

Loki rolls his pretty eyes. “Nobody really _dances_ at this place, Thor. It’s more like...fully-clothed grinding. C’mon.” He takes Thor’s wrist and Thor allows himself to be pulled off his stool, away from the relative safety of the bar. 

Being inside the crowd is its own brand of crazy; bodies are writhing, jostling together and bumping against each other without a care. Loki slithers through the crowd and slides his body against Thor’s—his back to Thor’s front—and begins to move. Thor’s unsure what to do with his hands in this situation, but Loki seems happy to help him out. He takes Thor’s hands and sets them on his narrow hips as he starts to move to the driving beat of the music. 

Despite their uncomfortable tightness, Thor’s glad he decided to wear jeans tonight; Loki is grinding against him, slow and torturous, and Thor is already hard as a rock. The denim, at least, offers some camouflage. The kid slides his arms up and clasps his hands behind the back of Thor’s head, and draws more attention to his exposed neck. Thor, feeling strangely bold, takes a chance, leaning in just enough to nuzzle against the smooth column and take a deep breath. Loki smells of oranges and fresh sweat and it sends another jolt of desire to Thor’s crotch. 

Loki then turns in his arms. “Do you like me, Thor?” His breath is hot against Thor’s face, and his palm, now moving down Thor’s broad back, is even hotter through the fabric of his loose flannel shirt. 

“Yes,” Thor hears himself say as his own hands circle Loki’s waist. There’s no sense denying it, especially not with his unmistakable erection nudging between them. 

Loki smiles again. “Good. I like you, too,” he says. And then, as if to prove it, he presses his body tighter to Thor’s. Loki’s own hard-on juts firmly into Thor’s hip. 

Maybe…maybe Thor will _make use_ of Loki’s services, if he offers. He’s never considered hiring a sex worker, but then again, he never considered that, at thirty-six, he’d be fat, divorced, and alone in a glitzy college hangout on a Friday night. 

And it’s been a long time—too long—since someone has touched him like this. Those last few years of their marriage, after he and Amora had stopped pretending to give a shit about each other, they’d barely been able to sleep in the same bed, much less fuck. 

Shivers rake through Thor’s body as Loki drifts his fingers into the back of his jeans, nails dragging against the cotton of his underwear. 

“There’s something,” he purrs, tilting his face upward, “I’ve been wanting to ask you since you walked in.” 

“You saw me come in?” 

“I did. You’re hard to miss, Thor.”

It doesn’t feel like an insult, so Thor chooses not to take it as one. “What’d you want to ask me, Loki?”

Loki’s breath smells spicy with overpriced draft beer. He cups Thor’s cheek with his free hand, brushing his thumb over his beard. “Your place or mine?” 

++ 

“Can your elevator _be_ any fucking slower?” Loki manages to gripe around his gasp. He’s wedged against the wall of the elevator, pressed in by Thor’s bulk, kissed breathless but still full of snark. 

Thor loves that about the kid. “Stop whining,” he growls. Thor nips at Loki’s ear as punishment and Loki mewls, grinding his hips up into Thor’s. 

The kid’s a whirlwind of lips, tongue, and teeth, and Thor quickly learns how fond Loki is of being bitten; there’s already a smattering of reddened marks lining the side of his neck. Thor wiggles a hand under Loki’s sweater (and _oh_ , it feels as soft as it looks) to thumb at his nipples—he can’t wait to see them, to nibble at them. He wonders what color they are against Loki’s pale chest. How they’ll look after he’s kissed and bitten them swollen. 

A rogue thought pops into his head. _How much is this gonna cost me?_ Thor wonders. When Loki winds his fingers into Thor’s hair and kisses him again, sliding his wet lips across the stubble of Thor’s beard, he knows, without a doubt, that he’d pay any price for this. He reaches down and cups Loki’s pert little ass in both hands, hitching them closer together and runs his teeth over his skin again, this time on his exposed collarbone. Loki moans sweetly and Thor does it again, sinking his teeth in this time. Loki digs harder into Thor’s scalp and lets his head fall back; their panting breaths fill the elevator loud enough to drown out the twinkling Muzak. 

The elevator dings ten, eleven, and finally twelve. The doors slide open and the pair stumble out. Loki won’t let go of him long enough for Thor to get his balance properly, so they careen down the hall. 

“Stop, stop,” Thor gasps. “Here, this is me.” He disentangles himself from Loki’s clutches long enough to fish his keys out of his pocket. 

Thor’s apartment door yields and Loki, with a lick of his lips, _shoves_ Thor inside. 

“Bedroom,” Loki demands as he kicks off his shoes. “Where?” 

Their clothes are tossed carelessly as they stumble across the living room. Thor’s shirt flies off and lands on the couch; Loki’s artful, hipster skinny-jeans and boxer briefs end up in a puddle on the floor and— _God help me, he really is that tiny—_

Thor’s cat, Odin, loudly protests the sudden activity in his apartment and is utterly ignored. He trudges off with a surly growl and hides under the TV stand. 

The lights are on in his bedroom, and Thor flicks the switch to turn them off. The dark gives Thor some cover—his room is pretty messy (he wasn’t exactly expecting _company_ , now was he?), but moreover...in the safety of the dark, Loki can’t see his body and Thor really doesn’t want to break whatever spell is being woven for him tonight. 

All of that is blown apart when Loki turns them back on almost immediately. The kid doesn’t seem to care, or even notice, the array of clothes tossed around the room. And as for seeing Thor’s body...his fears are dashed when Loki marches over to him and gives him another steamy kiss. “God, I want you,” he mumbles somewhere around Thor’s bottom lip. Then he flops onto the bed like he owns the place and makes grabby hands at Thor. “Gimme.” 

“Greedy,” Thor chides. chuckling in an effort to cover his nerves. He gives himself over and Loki welcomes him with open arms and, even better, open legs. 

They fall back, Loki arching against him as Thor drags his beard down the kid’s neck and to his chest. Loki’s nipples look as delightful as he’d imagined, small, dusky rose circles against all that pale, inviting skin. Thor swipes his tongue across one, teasingly drawing it into his mouth but not sucking. 

“Oh, fuck, Thor...” 

“Like that, baby?” Thor says, lips brushing the nipple as he looks up at the kid. The endearment rolls off his tongue like water, but Loki doesn’t protest it. In fact, going by the way he mewls above him, Thor thinks he must rather like it. “You want more?” 

Loki doesn’t respond...at least, not with words; he gathers Thor’s hair in a fist and pushes him back down to his heaving chest. Thor obliges, but decides a little punishment wouldn’t go remiss. 

It’s hardly punishment, though, especially not when sinking his teeth into that slight swell of flesh around his nipple makes Loki writhe and moan like a porn star. 

Thor lavishes attention to Loki’s pecs, popping off one only to mouth at its mate while his hands rove over Loki’s slim torso. He maps the dips of ribs and groans as he measures a slender waist—Loki is _so small_ compared to him. He’ll have to be careful...but Thor knows how to be careful. 

When his questing hands reach the divot of Loki’s hips, they both moan. Thor had known Loki’s skin was soft, but here, on his bare pubis, it’s like silk under his fingers. He pulls away from Loki’s nipples; there’s a brief struggle wherein Loki refuses to release Thor’s hair until he’s forced to pinch the minx’s thigh. 

But he wants to see—God, does he want to see—how Loki looks spread under him. He’d barely had time to glimpse more than hints of skin during their tumble to the bedroom. Now he has a chance to look his fill, to admire, to _covet_ , and Thor intends to take advantage. 

Loki clearly has a similar idea. He scoots further away from the bed’s edge and reclines onto his elbows. His eyes, hooded with lust, rake over Thor’s body like a physical touch. Thor still doesn’t know what the appeal is—he’s best described as ‘pleasantly plump’ and has more hair on his left ass cheek than Loki does over his entire body—but Loki must find something he likes because his cock, rigid and proud, leaves a trail of slick precum on his flat belly and he licks those tempting lips on what Thor suspects to be instinct rather than an attempt to seduce. 

Thor’s own cock jumps in response and Loki’s heady gaze drops to it. He lifts a slim leg and rubs his big toe along the edge of Thor’s boxers. “Off,” Loki commands, his voice already gravelly. In their haste, Loki hadn’t even bothered to take off his socks and Thor laughs. That earns him a light kick, but Thor captures Loki’s foot easily, and pulls the thing off. “That wasn’t what I meant.” 

“I know.” Thor winks. 

Cheekily, Loki raises his other foot and plants it on Thor’s right pectoral, where it’s stripped as well. Thor places a small kiss on Loki’s calf before lowering the leg down. Hooking his thumbs under the waistband, Thor divests himself of his underwear and Loki hisses between his teeth. 

“Fuck _yes_.” Loki licks his lips again. “Condoms? Lube?” 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Thor has lube—he’s too old to use a squirt of Jergens lotion, no matter how good the pun potential—but condoms are another thing entirely. He hasn’t needed them in, well, a while. “I have lube, but…” 

“That’s fine.” Loki sits up. “I have one in my jeans. Get the goop...I’ll be right back.” 

Loki hops off the bed, face determined—a young man on a mission. Thor briefly interrupts said mission by snatching the kid down for a kiss, before sending him off with a playful swat on the ass. 

The lube’s in the bedside drawer and it takes Thor all of twenty seconds to fish it out. He’s running low; he’ll need to stop by the store to pick up more. And maybe get some condoms, too, while he’s there… 

“Oh my god, seriously?” Loki’s voice floats in from the living room. “My pants are not a cat bed. Go on—don’t swipe at me! Ow, you fucker! Those are mine! Get off!” 

Thor laughs as he sits down on the bed. It feels odd, someone new existing in his and his cat’s space—odd, but good. He could get used to it. 

A croaky meow echoes from the hall. “No! Don’t follow me, you little—no, Daddy’s all mine tonight!” 

‘Daddy,’ huh? That’s... _new_. 

“Your cat,” Loki announces when he steps back in the room with his treasure in hand, “hates me. Look!” He’s holding his forearm out for Thor to look at. “Your cat scratched me!” he says with a pout before firmly closing the door behind him with a kick.

Odin is _not going_ to be happy about being locked out of _his_ room, but he’ll just have to deal. 

“Yeah, Odie...is _cantankerous_ at best.” Thor gently takes Loki’s arm and inspects it. It’s not terrible, but the fine set of three lines are a bright, fresh red. “Are you allergic?” he asks. “Want me to clean this up?”

Loki shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. My pride hurts more than anything—cats _usually_ love me.”

“Don’t take it personally; he hates most everyone except me. And sometimes I think even _that_ is conditional.” 

“On whether or not you got the good food, I bet.”

“Got it in one.”

Loki walks towards Thor, his eyes hovering somewhere between his chest and his knees. His gaze on him feels heavy, and Thor sits up a little straighter, tries to suck in the softness around his waist. The kid stops in front of him, tosses the foil-wrapped condom on the bed beside Thor, and kneels to the floor between Thor’s legs. Loki runs his hands up Thor’s inner thighs, thumbs stopping perilously close to his crotch. “He’s possessive.”

“He’s a grumpy bastard, but yeah. I guess ‘possessive’ is a nicer way to say it.”

“Can’t say I blame him.” 

Thor chuckles. “Oh yeah?” He cups the side of Loki’s pretty face, slides his thumb along that sharp jawline to his pointed chin. 

“Yeah.” The kid tilts his head and nips at Thor’s fingers. “I bet he gets to crawl all over you anytime he wants, huh?” 

Thor’s cock jerks at that, and Loki’s sinful tongue darts out again over his lips. 

A hum is all the warning Thor gets before Loki suddenly leans up and into him, lips parting wide and then closing around his cock, swallowing him down to the root. 

“Jesus! Fuck!” Thor cries out, flailing a moment, unprepared for the rush of wet, sucking heat of Loki’s mouth. It’s been...fuck, years since he’s felt anything on his length beside his own hands, and he’d almost forgotten how utterly overwhelming a cock-sucking can be. 

And Loki is _especially_ good at it. 

“Oh...oh, god...” Thor gasps, watching while the kid bobs his head in Thor’s lap, taking his time as he glides his tongue along the underside of Thor’s length, giving it a little flourish when he licks the crown before descending again. Thor’s hands finally land, tentatively, on top of Loki’s head. At that, Loki looks up at him, eyes shining, and Thor takes a chance. He tightens his grip in Loki’s soft curls, and Loki—cock still filling his mouth—somehow, _smiles_. 

Moments later, Thor can already feel his climax cresting—the tension slowly but steadily building in the pit of his stomach, tightening up as it travels down into his cock and balls. Loki changes his angle slightly, and it makes the tip nudge hard, over and over, at the back of his throat. He’s not going to last, not like this... 

“Loki...oh, god. Loki, stop. I'm gonna—” Thor reaches down and lifts Loki’s head up and off of him. The kid looks up at him, and he’s a wet mess—eyes shining and mouth glossy. A thin string of gooey spit hangs from his bottom lip. He looks dazed, confused. 

“Why—why’d you stop me?” 

“Because...I’m too rusty and you’re too good at that.” 

Loki smiles big and bright. Straightens up a little. “I know I am.” 

Thor thumbs away the line of saliva that’s stuck to Loki’s cheek. “Are you always such a brat?” 

“Definitely,” Loki affirms. He gets back to his feet, and then there’s his cock, just bobbing in Thor’s face. Thor decides to return the gesture. “Oh!” Loki exclaims as his own length eases into Thor’s mouth. “Thor, you don’t ha...have...mmm, _fuck_...” 

Now it’s Thor’s turn to be greedy; he plants his hands on Loki’s small, firm ass, kneading the muscles and holding him close while he gets reacquainted with the sensation of having a dick in his mouth. It’s been a while since he’s been with another man—since before he was married—but he thinks he can remember how to do this. 

Loki’s body is tense and tentative under his touch; Thor can feel his wiry body straining to keep from thrusting into his mouth, and he figures maybe he’s still decent at this. He’s certainly _missed_ it—the taste of musk and salt, the firm weight on his tongue, the mild ache in his jaw from stretching to avoid scraping the tender flesh with his teeth...although, if their frantic make-out session in the elevator is anything to go by, Loki might be into that. Thor carefully lets his two front teeth bump against the smooth ridge at the glans, and the kid responds with a cry as he pitches forward, hands landing on Thor’s shoulders for purchase. 

“Oh fuck, do that again...” 

Thor happily obeys, adding a little pressure on his next slide down the shaft, and Loki rewards him with a solid, throaty ‘ooh’ and a hot spurt of precum on his tongue. He’s still clutching Loki’s ass in his meaty grasp, but Loki’s doing all the pushing now, actively fucking into Thor’s mouth as he grunts and whines somewhere above him before suddenly yanking himself away. “Wow...fuck. Okay.” 

“Why’d you stop me?” Thor asks, cheekily parroting Loki. 

“Because I want to come while you’re fucking me, duh. Although...” 

Loki worries at his lip for a moment, turning a condom packet over and over in his hand. “I hope it fits you.” He eyes Thor’s cock with a mix of hope and trepidation, nervously tucking a loose curl of hair behind his ear. It pops back out a few seconds later. 

“If not,” Thor says, grabbing at Loki as he draws near, “We’ll figure something out. Cut it and use it like a dam, lick you open...” Loki whimpers. “Then fuck you good and deep with my fingers. Watch you try to take three or four of them at once...” Thor’s mind swims with the mental image of Loki on all fours on his bed, his tiny hole exposed as he carefully licks into him, making sweet breathy little sounds as he takes this sweet brat apart with just his tongue. 

He almost hopes the condom doesn’t fit. _Almost._

“How’s that sound? Think we could do that?” 

Loki looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe; he stares at Thor, wide-eyed, until he sucks in a shuddering breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that’s certainly a thing we could do.” 

Oh, good, he still knows how to talk dirty, at least. Thor doesn’t bother to hide his smirk. “C’mere, baby…” 

A visible shiver runs down Loki’s body as he makes his way over, easing his thighs on either side of Thor’s hips to settle in his lap. Loki tears open the condom wrapper and, with what looks like practiced ease, rolls the condom onto Thor’s aching, hard cock. It’s a snug fit, but it doesn’t hurt. 

“How is it?” 

Thor looks down and watches his sheathed dick bounce, dark pink under the clear latex. “It’s good. I’m good.” 

“Thank fuck,” Loki says. “Not that the other option isn’t appealing,” he curls his hand around the base of Thor’s length and gives it a firm squeeze, “but I really want this in my ass.” 

“Same. God, you’re so beautiful, Loki, I want…” 

Loki flashes a teasing smile. “Get me ready then.” 

“Brat.” 

Loki blows him a kiss in response. 

Thor rolls his eyes, then slides a thick pillow under his head and lies back. “Come up here and turn around. Let me see you.” 

The smoldering look Loki gives him is going to haunt Thor’s wet dreams for the rest of his life. The kid obeys and straddles Thor’s chest before turning and presenting his ass for Thor’s inspection. Even spread open like this, he’s gorgeous. Thor kneads the mounds of Loki’s ass briefly before moving his thumbs inward, slowly, taking his time as he guides them to Loki’s small, winking hole. He runs the pad of one over the opening; he has no intention of breaching the kid like this, not without lube, but it does give Thor a hot little thrill to watch Loki arch back into the touch. 

“You’re so greedy,” he teases, using his free hand to give one of the kid’s cheeks a rough squeeze. 

“And you’re so _slow_ ,” Loki fires back, breathy. He slides back, then forward, against Thor’s body, and Thor feels the wet drag of slick from Loki’s cock on his stomach. “C’mon,” he urges. “Open me up, Thor.” 

Thor grins. Even now, breathless and needy, Loki is a bossy little bitch. He can’t help but needle him just a little. “What’s the magic word, baby?” 

Loki looks back at him, eyebrow cocked. “ _Now_.” 

“That’s the problem with you millennials,” Thor jokes. “No manners—no ‘please’ or ‘thank you’.” 

“I’ll _thank you_ to get me ready and _please_ me, Thor.” Loki smiles, big and flashy. “How’s that?” 

If Thor was at a better angle, and more patient, he'd bite the kid right on the ass for that. But he isn’t. If anything, Loki’s cheek—figuratively and _literally—_ has only made Thor’s dick harder. He moves his hands away from Loki, back to the bed, and pats around for the bottle of lube. He finds it and fumbles with it for a moment, then squirts a healthy amount on his fingers. He slides a slick digit along the inside of Loki’s thigh, up and up until it hits the rim of Loki’s hole. Thor runs the pad around the edge, watches it quiver in anticipation, and pushes his finger inside. Loki’s body tenses slightly and he lets out a tiny gasp; Thor pauses there, cranes his head to the side and presses a kiss to Loki’s thigh. “You good, baby?” he murmurs against the warm skin. 

“Good,” Loki assures him. “More.” 

_Right._

This isn’t the ideal position to finger someone, but Thor’s determined to make it work. The view of Loki on top of him like this is just too good to give up. Besides, he figures he must be managing it well enough, because when he eases a second finger into Loki’s body, the kid leans down and captures Thor’s cock in his mouth. 

“Mmm...that’s good, baby,” Thor praises. And it is. From the way Loki clenches around Thor’s probing fingers to how he sucks hot and hard on Thor’s dick, it’s all _so_ good. Loki replies with a throaty hum around Thor’s length. Thor can’t see his face but, somehow, he knows the kid’s feeling unbearably _smug_ about all this. He responds by adding a third finger, pushing in harder than he really needs to; Loki’s moans go high and thin and Thor’s cock falls out of his mouth. 

“Ooh, yeah,” the kid whines, and then the wet heat is back around Thor’s length; even through the condom, the heat and pressure and sheer force of Loki’s mouth—like the kid is trying to suck out his soul through his cock—is fucking _fantastic._

_Maybe that’s it_ , Thor thinks, dazed. _Maybe Loki is a succubus,_ here to send Thor to hell as a soulless husk with a smile on its face. Of all the ways Thor can imagine dying, none of them could possibly be as sweet as this. 

The sound of wet slurping rings through the room while Loki squirms on top of him; more slick oozes, hot and sticky between their sweaty bellies, as he wriggles his ass against Thor’s fingers and grunts, as if he wants more, but is unwilling to remove the cock in his mouth to say so. 

Thor tests his theory by pulling his buried fingers back, slowly, until the tips are on the verge of slipping out entirely. Sure enough, Loki whines again, plaintive and hungry as he repeats his little ass wiggle. 

_Well then._

Thor could easily give the kid what he so clearly wants, but he’s enjoying this, and Loki could stand to learn a little patience. He pushes two of his fingers back into Loki’s hole, good and deep, and crooks them carefully, nudging against the tight bundle of nerves and stroking them until he finally strikes gold: the heightening pitch of Loki’s whimpers and choked out curses around his cock as his red-rimmed hole pinches tight. Thor makes a point of committing the sight of it to memory as he adds his ring finger again, watching Loki’s hole widen to take it in before winking shut. 

Above him, Loki’s entire body shivers; he’s not so much _sucking_ Thor’s cock now as he is just holding it in his mouth and humming around it. Finally, his sweet lips pop off of it, and Loki is leaning back up. “Fuck, Thor,” he pants. “I’m...ready. Fuck, I’m ready.” 

Thor eases his fingers out, relishing his handiwork—Loki's slack, wet hole, ready to be fucked. Although he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he’d happily do this all night; keeping Loki spread wide like this, driving his tongue into his hole and licking deep until his face is covered in lube and spit and Loki’s skin is rubbed raw from his beard. “You sure, kitten?” 

Loki clambers around, all Bambi limbs and, ungracefully, gets himself back to sitting. One of his knees clips Thor across the nose in the process, and it smarts, but Thor keeps it to himself. He’s been hit harder on purpose. 

“Fuck...yeah, I’m sure,” Loki says as he faces Thor again, lips swollen and spit-shiny. The pesky curl springs into his face again and he swats it away, pushing it behind his ear. He seats himself on top of Thor and runs his hands over the expanse of Thor’s broad, hairy chest. His green eyes go wide for a moment, and Thor swears he can actually see the kid’s pupils dilate. “Fuck, there’s so _much_ of you.” 

Thor’s insecurity creeps up the back of his mind again. “Yeah,” he says, hoping to hide it behind humor that he doesn’t really feel. “I’ve been meaning to renew my gym pass, lose some of it, but—” 

[](https://ibb.co/tbCGJzg)

Loki shakes his head and the curl starts to slide forward. “Don’t lose too much, though.” He rakes his nails down Thor’s soft belly, and Thor’s hips buck. “I really like it.” To prove his point, the kid bends down and nuzzles him; Thor inhales, sharp and sudden, when Loki opens his mouth to pull a small bit of flesh between his teeth and bite just hard enough to leave a red, toothy imprint on Thor’s stomach. “See? You’re fucking delicious.” He leans backward, eyes never leaving Thor’s face, and takes hold of Thor’s aching cock and strokes. “Are you ready for _me_?” 

To be honest, Thor isn’t sure if he’ll ever _really_ be ready for Loki, but he nods anyway, watching eagerly as the kid raises himself up and steadies his dick before easing down on him in one, tortuously slow slide. “God,” he breathes, hands quickly going to Loki’s narrow hips. 

Loki takes his time, wriggling carefully while he gets good and comfortable on Thor’s lap. His lower lip disappears between his teeth and his head falls forward. “Oh...oh, you feel _good_.” He plants his hands on Thor’s chest and starts to move. Loki feels like heaven—all hot and buttery and _eager—_ and Thor wonders if this could count as a religious experience. A chance encounter with the divine. 

He’d happily sit in a pew every Sunday and pay the tithe if he could have this every day in between. 

Loki’s body is a sinuous line above his, the smooth muscles of his abdomen flexing with every roll of his hips. Thor presses his fingers into the hollows of Loki’s hips, digs them in, hoping that he’ll leave bruises. He wants Loki to remember this, remember _him_. To leave something lasting. 

To remind himself that this is _real_. 

Not for the first time tonight, Thor wonders if the kid can read his mind, because he chooses that moment to drag his nails down Thor’s chest again, combing through the thatch of dark blond hair. The scratches leave a hot sting; they’re pink now, but they’ll be red by morning. Thor can’t bring himself to care, though, not with Loki’s tight, smooth heat clenching around his cock as it milks him with every slide. 

Thor looks up at Loki, his eyes closed and pretty face pinched and perfect, sighing long and loud as he rises and falls on top of him. There’s something else though, behind all of the kid’s luxurious moves and porn star moans—something desperate and intangible that he needs but isn’t getting—even as he grinds down harder on Thor’s length. Thor reaches for Loki’s cock, red and bobbing, and starts to stroke but Loki bats his hand away and shakes his head. 

“I want you on top,” he demands, breath hitching on the last word. Loki rubs his fingers over the soft weight of Thor’s belly. “Wanna be under you...wanna feel you.” He’s watching Thor now, eyes dark and hungry. 

Thor squirms uncomfortably under the kid’s intense gaze. Why can’t they just...stay like this? This is good. This is safe. The uneasy, familiar burn of anxiety goes through him again. Loki, for his smart mouth and boldness, is, well...tiny, and Thor most definitely is not. He could hurt him, and not in the fun way. 

“Maybe we, uh, could just stay like this?” Thor holds Loki by the hips, nice and steady, and rocks up hard into him, pleased at the way Loki gasps and lets his head loll to the side. “See? Isn’t that good, baby?” 

Loki looks down at Thor. “Never said it wasn’t good.” He licks his lips. “But it’s not what I _want_.” He whines, and worse, the little bastard _cheats_ —he clenches around Thor’s cock and levels him with a pleading look from those soft, sleepy eyes. “ _Please_.” 

It’s the first time he’s heard ‘please’ from Loki—a real one—all night, and his resolve melts like sugar in hot tea. 

“Okay,” Thor says in spite of himself. He’ll just have to be careful, he thinks, already working out the angles in his head. If he bears his weight on his elbows, he can— 

Loki stops moving and bends down, darting out his tongue and tracing its tip along Thor’s lips before he commits to a full, soft kiss. “Stop thinking, Thor.” He’s beaming at him, face flushed and sweaty. 

“Okay, but...” He smacks Loki's ass. “You’re gonna have to get off.” 

“Isn’t that _your_ job?” 

“Hush, brat.” 

The kid pokes out his tongue, and Thor has half a mind to tell him to keep it in his mouth if he’s not going to use it, but the words give way to a deep, anguished moan as Loki dismounts, taking his tight, perfect ass and its warmth away from his cock. He flops down next to Thor and turns onto his back, groping for him. “C’mon!” 

With a laugh, Thor eases on top of him. “This what you wanted?” 

“Oh, god,” Loki croons, smug as a cat in the cream. “ _Yes_.” 

Too charmed to resist, Thor leans in and kisses him, nipping at his thin lips. Loki responds with the same enthusiasm he’s had all night as he leans up into the kiss, but he keeps it light, playful. There’s a different sort of intimacy bouncing between them now, a casual affection that wasn’t present in the slick, frenetic passion they’d shared earlier. 

Loki pulls away with a soft lick of Thor’s lips. The stubborn curl that he’s been fighting for the better part of the night flops back into his face, lending him a boyish appearance that Thor finds utterly adorable. He laughs when Loki swears at it. “I feel like I should just name the damn thing,” he complains. 

Thor blows the lock away from Loki’s face. “It looks like a ‘Charlotte,’” he offers. 

Loki’s eyebrows rise up into his hairline. “That’s...weirdly specific.” 

“It’s French,” Thor says, shrugging. “Means ‘free’.” 

“Ooh, you speak French?” Loki’s face spreads into a grin. “Say something sexy.” 

“Something sexy,” Thor parrots, and brushes their noses together. “Get your legs around me, baby...atta boy.” 

Loki keens at that, and winds his legs tight around the middle of Thor’s waist. His head falls back as Thor sinks in, exposing the pale column of his throat to Thor’s hungry mouth. 

Thor settles himself over the kid, bearing most of his weight on his arms. He lines himself up but doesn’t push in, instead nudging the fat head of his cock against Loki’s hole, over and over, until Loki digs into his back with his heels. “ _Fuck_ me, Thor,” he says through clenched teeth. 

“Greedy boy,” Thor chides, but he gives Loki what he wants, thrusting deep. Under him, Loki’s whole body arches as he lets out a long, throaty moan that Thor can feel in his balls. Loki was _made_ for this. _For him_ , Thor allows himself to think for a fleeting moment, his mind going a little muzzy around the edges. He rolls his hips again, careful not to rest too much of his weight on Loki’s slight frame. 

Loki looks up at him and shakes his head quickly. “No...not like that,” he growls. 

That pulls Thor up short. “I... Are you okay?” 

Loki strokes his hands over Thor’s straining arms—he knows he’s out of shape, but fuck—and gives him a baleful look. “You’re holding back. _Don’t_.” 

“I... I’m not,” Thor lies, badly. 

“Listen, Thor. I know I’m skinny...but I’m not made of glass. I won’t break, trust me.” 

“Loki--” 

The kid digs his heels in again; Thor’s beginning to feel like a horse being pushed to gallop. “I can take it. I want you. _All_ of you. Give me everything, Thor.” He raises up long enough to nip at Thor’s lips and chin. “Please...” 

That word has entirely too much power in Loki’s mouth, Thor thinks as he gives in to the kid’s husky plea. Carefully, he eases his weight off one arm, then the other when Loki doesn’t protest. “You okay?” Thor can feel Loki’s narrow chest rise and fall beneath him as he takes in lungfuls of air, and mild panic grips him. He shakes his head quickly. “No, this isn’t—” Thor moves to climb off, but Loki wraps his arms around his neck, hands gripping hard into his long hair. 

“Please, no,” he says, breathy. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect, Thor. Fuck me. God...go, go, _go_!” 

Thor’s cock twitches inside Loki’s heat. He gives a slow, experimental thrust of his hips. 

“Oh _god_ , yes!” Loki moans. “Fuck, just like that... again. Please, Thor, _please_...” 

_We’re really doing this_ , Thor realizes. _Okay._

He pushes into Loki again, carefully, completely covering his thin body with his own. The kid’s still breathing hard under him, but he’s also whimpering sweet, dirty encouragement to Thor all the while. “Fuck, oh yes...give it to me, Thor. Give me everything—you feel... Oh, you’re so fucking _good_ like this...” 

Beneath him, he can feel Loki’s cock, wet and hard and twitching against his stomach. He takes a deep breath and lets his own body settle in even more, then fucks hard into the body under him, and watches Loki’s eyes roll back into his head as he gasps like Thor’s punched the last breath of air from his lungs. “God, _yes_. Just like that…do it again...”

Thor’s rarely felt so _motivated._ He keeps the pace, fucking deep and slow while he deliberately moves against Loki, relishing the slick warmth and slide of friction against his belly as Loki's cock strains up and leaks between them. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Thor...” Loki babbles, head tossing back and forth against the mattress. His long legs tighten around Thor’s fleshy middle—he's stronger than Thor would’ve given him credit for—like he’s trying to crush their bodies even closer together. One of his heels lifts and kicks hard into his back, and Thor reacts like the thoroughbred he suddenly feels that he is, picking up his pace and riding him faster. He chuffs, blowing out a hard breath through his nose, and it earns him another deep, throaty moan. 

The kid begged for this, so Thor’s determined to give it—he fucks into Loki hard, burying himself to the hilt in that addictive heat, relishing the drag of skin on skin as he pulls back and drives in again. Every slide earns him a wet, gulping breath from Loki that’s filthier than the last. 

Thor works a hand under Loki’s leg and lifts it to rest on his shoulder; it shifts his angle to nudge against his prostate and when he thrusts again, Loki wails, loud and sharp, and claws at the meat of his back. He looks down at the kid, to check in, but Loki’s lost to him, lips curled in a snarl and fat tears building in the corners of his eyes. One of them slips out, streaking wet down his temple, but his hands are still digging into his back and he’s still mewling like a cat in full heat, so Thor keeps going. Keeps _fucking_ , because he’s pretty sure he might die if he stopped now. 

Their mingled heavy breathing moves in time with the whine of the bed’s springs, and the room fills with the heat and scent of sex that’s been missing from it for so long. The stress, the loneliness, the _pain_ that Thor has carried on his shoulders melts in that heat and rises off of him like steam. 

Thor feels... _sexy_ , wanted in a way he never realized he’s been craving until this moment, and he never wants to let it go. He needs this feeling—God help him—he needs this. Needs **_Loki_**. He buries his face into the kid’s trembling shoulder, bites and licks his salty skin, and lets himself imagine a life where Loki is _his_. 

"Thor," Loki keens, "Thor, I can’t...I’m gonna—" 

Thor lifts his head. He wants to see this; he wants to savor every detail, to burn it into his memory. Loki meets his eyes, and Thor thinks he sees a hint of... _something_ —but then it’s gone and they’re squeezing shut, his pretty face scrunches and his neglected cock twitches and, seconds later, Thor can feel the hot, sticky wetness of cum pulsing and spreading between their bellies. 

It's all too much for Thor to take—the spasms of Loki's orgasm milking him, the tears staining his face, the cum smearing between them—he grunts and lets his own climax take hold of him, coming into the condom what feels like gallons. His hips stutter, body still pressed to Loki’s as he rides out the tremors. "Fuck," Thor breaths, blissed out. "Fuck..." 

"Yeah," Loki agrees, still panting. He unhinges his claws from Thor's back—that's going to leave some marks—and cards his fingers through Thor's hair. “Yeah, that was...fuck.” He starts laughing, that breathless, ridiculous giggle that seems to wash over people after good sex. 

With no small amount of regret, Thor withdraws from Loki and rolls onto his back. He carefully strips off the condom and ties it off. "One sec. I'll be right back."

Loki hums lazily and waves him off. 

In the bathroom, Thor tosses the used rubber into the trashcan and grabs a washcloth from the shower. He gives it a sniff and deems it okay for cum-cleaning, then runs it under the hot tap in the sink until it’s soaked. 

Loki has an arm slung over his eyes when Thor comes back, but he waggles his long fingers in an approximation of a greeting. Thor switches off the lights and sits back down on the bed, pressing the hot, wet cloth to Loki’s stomach; the kid purrs a ‘thanks’ as Thor delicately wipes down his belly and cock. He’s less precise with his own clean up, mopping up the dribbles of cum that rolled down between his thighs with a couple of careless strokes before tossing the cloth on the floor. He’ll deal with it later.

Thor stretches out next to Loki, wincing inwardly at the twinges he feels in his joints; they’ll be full on aches tomorrow. For now, though, he soaks in the comforting presence of Loki’s body against his. Thor gnaws at his lip. He's not sure what to do now. What do you say to a stranger after he’s given you one of the best fucks of your life? 

“That was...nice," he ventures lamely. "Thank you." 

Loki hums and cracks open a green eye. "Ah yes. Thank you, good sir,” he says in a posh, drawling accent. “Most adequate indeed, my good ma—ahh!" 

Thor pinches one of Loki’s nipples as payback. “Oh, forgive me for trying to be _polite_ , you little shit!” 

“Oh yeah, ‘cause _now_ we’re gonna be polite.” Loki elbows him back, igniting a brief, giggly scuffle before Thor easily manhandles him into spooning him and holds his wriggling body in place until he settles with a contented sigh. “I let you win, you know,” he mutters after a few moments. 

“Of course you did.” 

Loki snorts in defiance, but snuggles deeper into Thor anyway. 

“Hey,” Thor says after a few moments, into Loki’s sweaty hair. 

Loki cuddles closer. “Hey.”

“Can I ask you something?”

The kid shrugs. “I don’t know. _Can_ you?” 

Thor rolls his eyes. He’s had a question poking at the edges of his brain from the moment Loki approached him at the club; he’s been too scared to ask it, but the niggling curiosity is killing him. “Why me?”

Loki twists to look over his shoulder at Thor. “Why you what?”

“Do you always answer a question with another question?”

“It depends on the question,” he says. 

“Never mind; forget I said anything.”

Loki turns over to face him, gently butting his head against Thor’s chest. “Are you mad at me?” 

The kid almost looks...worried. Thor doesn’t like it. Not one bit. 

“I’m not mad,” Thor assures him. “I’m just... Forget it; it’s not important. Really.”

“Now you’ve got me all curious. What’d you want to ask me? _Please_?” 

Damn this kid and that word. 

Thor licks his lips. And then again. “Of all the people in that place tonight...why me?”

Loki tilts his pretty chin upward and looks at Thor. “Because you were the hottest guy in the place. I mean...besides me, _obviously_.”

“‘Obviously’, huh?” Thor digs his fingers into Loki’s sides and tickles. “‘Obviously?’”

“Ahh! You brute! You—you monster!” Loki shrieks, but he’s laughing, squirming harder into Thor until he’s close enough to kiss, and then, Thor does. The mood between them seems to physically shift from soft to carnal as the kiss deepens into something wet and hot and _hungry_ , and Thor doesn’t hesitate to crush Loki’s slim body to him, holding him there while he thoroughly explores his mouth. 

Loki doesn’t seem to mind—in fact, he’s doing a little surveying of his own, moaning his want into the kiss as his hands rove over Thor’s ass, kneading the plump, furred cheeks. 

Thor shouldn’t be surprised to feel Loki’s cock, thick and insistent, as it hardens against his thighs, and yet… Jesus, to be young again. 

“Loki?”

“Sorry,” Loki breathes, “I just... you smell so good. You just...” 

Thor lays a kiss on his neck. “Fuck, as much as I want to, I don’t know if I can...you know. Again.”

“It’s fine,” the kid pants. “It’s okay, just let me...” He rolls Thor over onto his back and straddles him. “God... _ah._ ” Loki’s hand goes to his cock, already leaking precum onto Thor’s stomach, and starts to stroke its length. “I’ve never seen anyone as hot as you.”

Thor laughs. “Except you, you mean?”

Loki looks down at him and smiles, shaking his head. “Not even.” 

Thor doesn’t know what to say to that, so he makes himself useful instead, running his hands up Loki’s chest and tracing the pads of his thumbs over his taut nipples. Loki hisses his approval, hips bucking hard as he writhes in Thor’s lap. “Oh fuck, that’s so good, but...” 

“But?”

“I wanna see _you_ ,” Loki says. “And I can’t fucking concentrate if you keep... _ooh_...doing that.”

“Okay.” Thor takes his hands away and strokes Loki’s tense thighs, kneads his shaking muscles. He brushes his thumbs over the bruises already forming on Loki’s hips, dark little splotches on his peachy skin. The only light in Thor’s bedroom is the multicolored glow from the street lights and neon signs filtering in through his venetian blinds; it glides over Loki’s sinuous body, making him shine in the dark, and Thor is _overcome_.

“Oh, fuck.” The word catches slightly in Loki’s throat, and Thor recognizes the desperation laced through it. 

“Baby, let me,” Thor whispers; something about the blanket of night makes him want to keep his voice low, reverent. “Let me take care of you, baby—” 

“Nngh,” Loki grunts, shaking his head and tugging harder at his cock. “You are… you’re so...god. _God_.” He leans forward, bracing his free hand on Thor’s chest and squeezing his soft pecs, the spread of his midsection. “You’re so…” Loki bites his lip. “Perfect.”

Loki’s adoration makes Thor’s skin go hot all over. He’s never been doted on like this before, but he’ll be goddamned if it doesn’t feel _good_. 

Above him, Loki mewls. “Thor...can I?” The hand on his dick is flying fast, his thighs clenched tight against Thor. “Please, can I?”

All at once, something devilish crosses Thor’s mind, and he doesn’t hold it back. “I don’t know, Loki?” he teases. “ _Can you_?”

“Fuck, I’m…” The kid is all but sobbing now; he’s hanging on by a thread. “M- _may_ I come?” he pleads, voice wet and wobbly. 

“Yes, baby...you may.” 

That’s all it takes; a couple more punishing strokes of his length and then Loki is coming, crying out as weak, spitting pulses of cum drip from the head of his cock and drool all over Thor’s heaving stomach. Loki’s busy hand finally starts to slow its pace as his hips jerk reflexively. “Jesus _fuck_ ,” the kid finally breathes, and falls over, his body landing half on the mattress and half on Thor.

“That was...unexpected,” Thor offers. He’s breathless too, but for reasons of his own.

“I,” the kid starts giggling again, “Sorry, I got you all messy again.”

Thor looks down at his stomach, at the shiny puddles of spunk cooling there. He runs his fingers through it and spreads it further across his skin. “You know what, Loki? I don’t think you’re really sorry at all.”

Loki chuckles into the meat of Thor’s shoulder. “You’re right,” he says. “I’m not. Sorry, not sorry.”

“You’re a little shit, you know that?”

The kid raises his head a little, his rogue curl—Charlotte—falls against his eye. “It’s been brought to my attention once or twice,” he confesses before he flops back down again. 

“Ever think about _not_ being a shit?”

“Sure...but where’s the—” Loki yawns. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Point taken,” Thor agrees. He waits for Loki to reply, but the room is quiet, and he listens to the kid’s breathing as it eventually evens out to soft, whistling snores. This is what he’s missed the most. The sex was easily the some of the best he’s ever had, but hearing the soft breathing of someone next to him, feeling the warmth, smelling the product in his hair...for the first time in ages, Thor finds himself heavy with satisfied exhaustion rather than just passing out at the end of the day, stressed. 

He turns over and lays his hand on the small of Loki’s back, the gentle rise and fall of his torso helping further lull Thor into his own sleepiness. 

“Thank you,” Thor murmurs again, nuzzling into Loki's soft hair before he drifts off. 

+++ 

Watery sunlight pours into Thor’s bedroom and he stirs. 

On instinct, he blindly reaches out to touch his bedmate, but the space next to him is cold. The bedroom door is open, as evidenced by the _highly_ pissed off cat yowling for breakfast at his bedside. The bathroom also sits open, and empty. 

Thor blinks a few times, eyes bleary, and yawns. “Loki?” He’s not really surprised when the only answer he gets is another disgruntled yowl from Odin. He glances over at his bedside table in the dim hope that maybe the kid left his number, or perhaps a note, but there’s nothing. 

He’s really _gone_ , then. 

Thor swallows the bitter tang of disappointment that fills his mouth. Really, what else had he expected? That Loki and he would fuck like rabbits, wake up in each other's arms, and fall hopelessly in love? 

Well. Maybe a little, if he’s honest with himself. 

He really is too old for this whole one-night stand thing. 

Instead, he focuses on the evidence that last night actually happened: the lingering citrusy scent of Loki on his sheets, the few curled strands of dark brown hair still clinging to the pillowcase, the not-unpleasant sting of the scratches on his back and chest when he turns over. 

Odin pounces onto Thor’s stomach, his bawling reaching unnatural decibels, and Thor suspects that if he doesn’t drag his ass out of bed soon, he could very well be murdered by his cat. “Okay, okay. Listen, I’ll give you the beef strips in the gravy you like, huh? Will you forgive me, then?” 

He seems to accept his little peace offering; Odin gives him a grumpy meow, and then he’s hopping off of him and waddling his way toward the kitchen. 

Thor takes the moment’s respite and plants his face on a cool spot on his pillow. “Thank you, Loki,” he whispers into the sheets, just to feel the name in his mouth one last time before he finally gets up and pads into the bathroom to answer nature’s call.

“Oh...goddammit, Odie! That was the last roll of toilet paper!”

+++


End file.
